CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” his dad hissed in his ear.

Noah squirmed under his father’s tight grip. “Mmmm! Mm! Mmmm!”

“Don’t you dare scream for help if I take my hand away,” his dad said, removing his hand from Noah’s face.

“HELP! MURDER!” Noah shouted.

The hand was slapped straight back on. “Bloody idiot! Do you want to get us all arrested?!”

Noah made a low-level growl.

Eric gave a wave to someone at the other end of the walkway, presumably a staff member. “It’s all good,” he shouted. “Just my little brother being stupid!” Eric turned to Noah. “Well, hello there, little brother!”

Noah tried to wriggle free from his dad’s grasp, desperate to set Eric straight: Eric was his little brother.

“OK, just chill out, Noah. Calm it down, buddy,” his dad cooed, holding him tight.

It was no good. The more Noah tensed and fought, the tighter his dad grasped him. It was pretty tiring, and Noah was already dangerously exhausted from all the exertion. He sighed and went limp. Death may as well just take him.

“Good,” his dad said, lifting his hands but keeping them hovering just a few centimetres away, in case they needed to go back on again. “We good?”

“I accidentally swallowed my Haribo without chewing it properly,” Noah said.

“Right,” his dad said. “Well, that’ll teach you not to eat sweets while prowling around, won’t it?”

Noah nodded, tight-lipped, flicking his eyes down to the floor.

His dad sighed. “Good, then.” He put his hands back in his pockets. “Sorry about grabbing you like that. Just didn’t want you messing up what me and Eric have worked so hard to make happen, yeah?”

Noah looked up at a triumphant Eric. Smarmy little git. Giving it all smiles, because he was clearly Dad’s little protégé now. His favourite. Fine, then. Whatever. He should have known. He should have seen that Dad had way more in common with Eric than with him. They were both dodgy, just out for themselves.

But Noah was Gran’s favourite, and he was doing this for her. He glanced up, over Dad’s shoulder, seeing Harry lurking in the shadows by the lizard tanks further back along the walkway. Noah took an unsteady breath, then lifted his chin and forced himself to stare his father right in the eyes. “Your scheme is like a cheap bourbon,” Noah snarled. “And I’m going to serve it on ice. I mean, with ice. No … on the rocks. Bourbon – on ice.”

“Bourbon’s best served neat, at room temperature,” his dad said.

“What? Oh. Look, it doesn’t matter. Where’s Gran’s tiara?”

“The tiara’s safe, Noah. We’ve taken the rocks out of it, and once I’ve sold ’em, I’ll replace them with fakes. Glue ’em back in, and Eric will drop the tiara back into her room when she’s not there, and she won’t know the difference.”

Noah looked at his dad and Eric and gave them his best sneering look. “Why? Why d’you do it? Do you even realize how upset Gran is about this?”

“Noah, mate,” his dad cooed. “Here’s the situation. That tiara would have been left to me in her will anyway. All I’m doing is releasing the funds a little earlier than expected.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her?”

“She used to bail us out all the time; she’s a good woman, my mum. But since the dementia, it’s like she doesn’t get it any more. It’s like … she’s holding on to everything she owns, because she’s scared of losing it, you get me? I asked her for cash. She said no.”

“So you took it anyway!”

His dad stepped towards him again. “If I don’t sort out our cash-flow problem, we are going down, big time. I just want us to have a comfortable life, Noah. Like, I want us to have a nice family car – a Mazda MX-5 or something – right? For our family.”

“Family?” Noah snorted. “An MX-5 seats two! So does Mum know about all this, then?”

Eric looked down as his dad cleared his throat. “I don’t like to worry Lisa with the finer details of our finances. Understand?”

Noah nodded. “Oh, I understand, Dad.”

“So I need you to be a man about this, Noah, OK? Don’t say nothing to her. Don’t worry her. She’s done so much worrying over the years – she deserves a bit of happiness, don’t you think? Deserves to sit back in an MX-5 and let me sort things out for us. She’s always been there for you, Noah. Now you need to be there for her. That’s the reason I didn’t loop you in on all this before – didn’t want you to have to keep secrets from her. Guess you found out anyway, but it’d be good if you could keep it zipped. Yeah?”

Noah shook his head and snuck a glance towards Harry. He was still standing in the same spot. Why hadn’t he moved forward? If Harry were closer, it would at least be two against two.

“Here.” His dad smiled, pulling a little velvet bag from his pocket and handing it to Noah. “Take a look. They’re yours too, after all. These little beauties are going to sort out a whole load of problems for us. And you want that, don’t you? I mean, you want what’s best for our family, right?”

Noah peered into the bag while he tried to work out what his options were for a next move. Some people would run, but Noah couldn’t run. Some people would use kung fu, but Noah didn’t know any kung fu.

He became aware of a general hubbub, and glancing briefly behind him he saw the group of Spanish kids being coaxed around the exhibits, none of them really giving a shit…

Some people would use the magician’s trick of distraction and misdirection.

But that would only happen if Harry got closer! Why the hell was he hanging back like this?

And in a flash, Noah realized.

He was standing his ground, facing off with his father in a confident way. Harry must assume he was dealing with things OK by himself. He had to show Harry he needed him.

Harry’s words came back to Noah: So that’s how I know it’s time to come to your rescue.

Of course! Noah started shifting his weight between his feet. Like he needed a goddam wee but, to be clear, he definitely did not need a wee because he was practically an adult now.

“So small, but so valuable,” Dad said, as Noah continued to look into the small bag.

“Yeah, they’re nice,” Noah said, gently shuffling about.

“Damn right they are,” Eric muttered. “You starting to see sense finally?”

Noah looked up at Eric. “I’m seeing things very clearly, Eric.”

At that moment, a group of the kids pushed by in between them, keen to see the big snake, whilst another group hovered behind Noah, laughing and taking photos. Noah casually dropped the hand holding the velvet bag to his side and slightly behind his back, hoping to hell that Harry had seen Noah’s signal and done the right thing.

“De esta manera!” the tour guide shouted. “This way!”

About twenty Spanish teenagers swarmed amongst them.

He sensed someone close behind him, a waft of something floral, and felt a tug as someone pulled the bag from his hand. Noah prayed it had been Harry, and not some young Spanish pickpocket whose hair coincidentally also smelled of roses.

“Hurry up!” the tour guide barked.

The teens moved off and his dad held his hand out.

“What?” Noah said.

“Give ’em, then,” his dad said.

Noah gave his dad a sweet smile. “Give you what, Father?”

“Don’t muck about, give me the diamonds.”

“Just give ’em!” Eric said.

Noah sucked his cheeks in, chewed his lip a bit and rubbed his nose, hoping his assortment of facial tics and expressions would give Harry maximum time to get the hell out of there. “Oh, the diamonds? Gran’s diamonds that you stole? Those ones?”

Dad stared at him.

“Oh, they’re gone, quite gone,” Noah said.

Dad sighed. “Eric – search your brother.”

“Spread ’em!’ Eric demanded, swaggering up to Noah. “I shall do no such thing!” Noah said.

“Up to you,” Eric said, jamming his hands in Noah’s pockets. “You can make this easy for yourself, or you can make it hard… What the hell?” Eric pulled Noah’s portable nail clippers, compass and spirit level out of his coat pocket. “Shit, man, what is this Christmas cracker crap you’ve got?”

“Where are the diamonds, Noah?” his dad said.

“La, la, la!” Noah grinned.

Eric frisked Noah’s legs. “He’s clean – what you done, hid them under your balls?”

“Oh, please!”

“Up your ass?”

“That’s pretty unhygienic, Eric,” Noah said. “Think you know me better than that.”

His dad stepped towards Noah, looking about ready to manhandle Noah to the ground, when Bambi tottered up to them, breathless and sweaty. “Hands in the air, motherfuckers!” she screeched, making a “gun” by holding her clasped hands out in front of her, her index fingers forming a point.

“Jesus Christ,” his dad muttered.

“Kidding!” Bambi laughed. “But the diamonds are gone. Sorry, Brian, Noah enlisted my help and it did sound like you were up to no good, but hey, you’re here in London – fancy a show tonight?”

“I don’t know what the hell this is, or how the hell you found us, but those diamonds are mine and you’re gonna give ’em back!”

Noah snorted. “The diamonds aren’t here any more – what you gonna do?”

“You need to leave now,” Bambi said. “Looks like you lost this one, Brian.”

“Piss off, Mick,” his dad hissed.

Bambi squared up to him. “Screw you, Brian. You prefer Mick, do you? You want Mick? Mick who grew up on the mean streets of Stoke? Mick who used to cage fight? Oh yeah, Mick can make an appearance all right. Is that what you want, Brian?”

Noah’s dad stared at Bambi and then at Noah, breathing hard through his nose, the vein in his neck throbbing. “Eric?! C’mon!”

And then Eric and dad slammed the bar of the fire exit down, pushed their way out into the bright sunlight and were gone.

Noah turned to Bambi. “It was Harry who got them, right?”

“Yeah, babe. It’s all good.”

Noah released a heavy sigh. “Cool. Thank God. Thanks, by the way.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Angel Cake.”

“Did you really used to be a cage fighter?”

Bambi snorted and shook her head. “Did I fuck, hun. Did I fuck. And don’t tell anyone, but I actually grew up on the mean streets of Chelsea.”